Botty Man, an anal mumbler
He put his farts into a tumbler
Or tried to, he was a fumbler
His wife complained, was a grumbler
Botty Man often tried one sideways
(He always seemed to do this on Fridays)
One or two really did amaze
Don’t strike a match, they’d be a blaze!
The problem of course was the stench
The sort that really made you clench
Poor woman! She’d started to blench.
Made her want to hide inside a trench
And things were even worse at night
A time when his arse was in the limelight
Another cheesy Angel Delight
Two pongs don’t make a right